


Psychic Mimesis

by marizousbooty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hint of klance, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Major Character Injury, Other, Written before Season 6, finished before season 8, got this studying for my british lit midterm, i just suck, metaphysical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:26:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marizousbooty/pseuds/marizousbooty
Summary: Judith Butler on Psychic Mimesis: For melancholia, identification (or psychic miming, incorporation) is a response to loss.  One incorporates the lost object and identifies with it; a self becomes a self “on the condition that it has suffered a separation…, a loss which is suspended and provisionally resolved through a melancholic incorporation of some “Other.”---Lance doesn’t know anymore





	Psychic Mimesis

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this i think almost a year ago and I got this done before season 8, but sadly my editor couldn't get the chance to look at it so I said fuck it im gonna post it because im tired of it sitting in my drafts. my grammar is terrible and i had duq look at it cause they did SAT stuff so they're automatically better than me.  
> The idea came while studying for a midterm in my brit lit class that went over shakespeares twelfth night and i came across a journal that covered the idea of psychic mimesis, becoming someone to cope instead of going through the five stages of grief. im sure its supposed to mean for a dead loved one, but I thought "hm, i can make this klance if i warp this theory enough"

Keith left for the Blade of Marmora a couple of months ago. He said he needed to do this, that Voltron would be okay without him. He needed to figure stuff out and the Blade would certainly help him. Besides, Shiro’s back to piloting the Black Lion, so why would they need him?

On the other hand, no one agreed with this sentiment. Like, at all. No one wanted Keith to leave. Shiro admitted the bond between him and Black felt forced, like she’s settled for him for the time being. No one wanted to stop Keith from leaving, either. This is something he truly wanted to do and Keith firmly believed that the Blade is what he needs right now. He was so set on going, and no one wanted to take that away from him. 

Voltron needs you more. The Blade has hundreds of other members and there are only five of us, so what’s one more to them? Knowledge or death is such a scary motto; you’re more likely to die with them. They’re more willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause, which is cool, yeah, but what’ll happen to  _ us _ if you actually die? We’ll miss you so much.

No one said any of it out loud.

Since then, there’s been little, unnoticeable things. A growl, a hard huff, extra power behind a dive. Lance didn’t know where this was coming from. He felt . . . mad? Sad? Smad. It’s hard to place a word over these weird, tangled feelings; curled wires frayed at the ends and knotted into an impossibly large, heavy ball in the center of his chest. It hurt to breathe. He would look down at the red and black bayard in his hand. It took the form of a rifle, but the shape of it looked  _ wrong _ to him. The nozzle too long, the body of the gun too slim, the weight distributed unevenly (from what he’s used too). But he needs this bayard to pilot the red lion.

The Red Lion, Lance found out, was sleeker, more sensitive to light touches. Sort of like a fancy sports car where the softest touch of the gas pedal sends the car careening down the road. Flying him felt like he was driving a car he could only dream to afford down a rain-slicked highway. Adrenaline overwhelmed his senses, shut off his ability to properly think things through and only left him to  _ feel _ things. There was so much going on at once that all he could do was trust his gut.

He didn’t like trusting his gut. He didn’t like the smaller frame of the Red Lion, the heat of his heat cannon, the red that surrounded him.

He was grateful to keep his blue armor . Red isn’t a good color on him. 

Even out of his lion, he felt the dynamic shift. Red clung to the back of his mind, claws deep in his flesh. His very breath felt hotter in his helmet. His movements were faster; faster flying and faster reaction time. Actually, he was overall improving. This should be great; he’s a better sharpshooter, better pilot, heck, even a better co-leader to Shiro. But it didn’t feel great.

This . . . shift in the team from when Keith left felt wrong. Lance, as he was, didn’t feel like a second in command next to Shiro. That was Keith. Shiro’s a serious, compassionate guy who’s always so patient, so understanding with them. Somehow, he and Keith worked in perfect synchronicity, despite their obvious contrasting personalities. How is Lance supposed to measure up to their bond? They have history, a deep familial bond that would take years for Lance to form any semblance of one.

Speaking of Shiro, there was something up with him, and it hurt Lance, acting as the unofficial co-leader of the team. The guy had obviously been through a lot, but was he always such a, pardon his language,  _ major dick? _ Lance wanted to push it aside, perhaps even confront him as if it was just stress getting to him. Shiro was snappy, rash, and even going as far as stomping on the team’s input “because he’s the leader”. This is a supposed to be a democracy, dammit. 

But the worst part about Keith leaving team Voltron? That nasty, metallic taste it left in Lance’s mouth at the thought of “stepping up” to fill in Keith’s old role. He was fine piloting Blue. Great actually! He loved her and he thought she loved him, too. But she handed him off to Red in a heartbeat and took in Allura before Lance could even step foot out of her hanger. He replaced Keith when he was booted from the Garrison, and took over Keith’s role as the Red Paladin and second-in-command. Now there’s a weird gap in the whole team dynamic that doesn’t feel right without Keith there.

Their passion driven, realist, hard-headed, secretly soft, melee fighter and number one pilot was gone because he needed a spiritual journey of self-discovery through suicide missions with hooded furries. 

What were they supposed to do without that? That spark? That driven energy Keith had? He was a unstoppable force that would try and go against a hurricane with only a knife if he was riled up enough. 

Lance couldn’t fill his shoes. He was supposed to be the heart of Voltron; a shoulder to cry on, a much needed laugh when things got too hard, the gentle reminder that it’s okay to take a break. He’s supposed to be with Blue.

But that’s Allura now. She’s the true heart, the true leg. With Keith out of the picture, it doesn’t feel right taking up his seat as the Red Paladin. Keith should have stayed with the team and learn how to be the leader Lance was so  _ sure _ he had the potential to be, and they would be together as a weird, mismatched found family. 

If anyone should leave, it should have been Lance.

He doesn’t have Blue anymore, and the distinct feeling of wrong permeates around Red. It felt like he didn’t belong anywhere. 

They were in the middle of a firefight with a Galra fleet. It was a trap in disguise of a  signal from a planet in the Voltron Coalition. They had arrived planet side and stepped out of their lions, expecting at least a welcoming committee and was greeted by too many sentries with captive natives. The sky had darkened with Galra warships blocked them from one end of the horizon to the other. Even with Lotor now on the Galra throne, too many Galrans dissented and dismissed him in favor of their own gain. 

Lance and Shiro were the first to leap into action; Lance’s bayard shifted in his hands into the unfamiliar shape of his rifle and Shiro’s hand flashed to life. Pidge, Hunk, and Allura activated their weapons only mere seconds after them. Even with the overwhelming number of senties in their way, they were an unstoppable team in or out of the lions. They didn’t stand a chance.

The attack was to lure them away from the castle in hopes of capturing it and maybe a lion or two if they decided to carpool (“lionpool” as Lance liked to call it). Thankfully, all five lions were on the planet’s surface.

Unfortunately, that left Coran alone to defend the castle alone. 

It was a smart plan, technically speaking. Take away the castle, the paladins lose their main base of operation and an important figure in the coalition. No one had said it, but they all knew that without Coran, Voltron would lose that rock that held them down. Coran was incredibly knowledgeable in numerous fields and had a deep wisdom that no one in their Coalition so far could compare. He might not be a pilot or a fighter on the field, but he was a strategist, an advisor, a Mr. Fix-it, and a home for them to go to after battles. Voltron needed the foundation he provides. 

The battle cruisers and war ships blocked their path to escape to the sky and foot soldiers blocked their way to the lions. The largest warship of them all, Coran reported, had already started to suck the castleship into the hull with a tractor beam. They had minutes to get up there and save him. 

Panic overwhelmed Lance’s senses, but that was overwhelmed by a scream that sounded eerily like Keith that told him he needed to move. The blaster was hot in his grip by how rapidly he was firing. With every sentry he took down,  five more replaced it. They were getting nowhere with their attacks in an attempt to ward of the sentries blocking them from the lions. 

A particular shout from Coran seemed to send an electric shock down to his very core.

“If I can’t make it out of here, I want you guys to know that even without me, Voltron will live on. You have the coalition, you can get a new ship, and you can even get a new advisor. We’re replaceable. Voltron isn’t. Get to your lions and get out of here, there’s too many even for Voltron to take on.” Coran gave a heavy sigh. “You lot always felt like the children I never got the chance to raise.” The communications from the ship cut off with a loud burst of static. Pidge gave out a sob and declared the castleship had been taken.

A crazy, awful idea struck through his head that seemed so very Keith-like. A plan this reckless is something only the true Red Paladin could come up with- and act as follows:

“If we take out a nearby cruiser we could take out a chunk of the sentries from the explosion and get out of here,” Lance said.

“That’s too risky, we need to think of something else,” Shiro said as he slashed down a sentry with his glowing arm. “Pidge, do you have any ideas?”

“Nothing yet,” she said.

“We don’t have  _ time!”  _ Lance snapped and hoisted his rifle. “Hunk, shoot that cruiser with me!”

“What! No! That’ll blow!” Hunk yelped.

“That’s the point!”

“Don’t you dare, you two. We’re too close,” Shiro said sternly. “Someone could get caught in the explosion. We’ll think of something else-  _ Lance!” _

White hot anger flooded Lance’s senses so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He ignored Shiro’s shouts of protest, already turned his humming rifle towards the belly of a nearby cruiser parked on the ground, door propped over from where sentries had spilled out. He cranked up the energy from kill to explosive and let loose a barrage of shots toward where Pidge had once pointed out was a weak point in their cruisers. Hunk did the same with an indignant huff. With the combined power of Hunk’s cannon and Lance’s blistering rifle the small cruiser went up in a fiery explosion that wiped out the a good number of sentries that were still coming at them. He could feel the hot blast of the explosion even through his suit. With the sudden clearance in their lines, Shiro barked an order for them to get to the lions. Lance tumbled into Red’s cockpit, a laugh on his lips when a sentry had tried to follow him in and Red bit his maw closed and snapped the android in half. 

Shiro’s grim face graced the screen the moment Lance settled down in the piloting chair. “I’m disappointed in the both of you for disregarding orders.  I warned you  _ not  _ to attack the cruiser and you did it regardless. Lance, I’m more disappointed in you. When we get back to the castle I’m having words with you two.” 

“Allura almost got caught in the explosion.” The screen split into two and Pidge was frowning next to Shiro. “You’re lucky she ducked out of the way in time.”

“I’m really sorry you guys. I panicked and did it.” A third screen opened up with Hunk’s apologetic puppy eyes.

Lance activated his own video comm. “It worked, didn’t it? End of the day, its fine, because we got out of there instead of sitting there fighting off a bunch of sentries while Coran got away.”

“We’re not through with this Lance, Hunk. Let’s go get Coran so we have a home to get back to.” With a curt nod Shiro cut out his video feed and everyone followed suit as they launched into the atmosphere after the warship that had taken the castle. A wormhole already opened where the warship was heading toward. They launched an attack on the ship that carried Coran and the castle. 

It was a difficult battle that they won by the skin of their teeth, retrieving the castle after forming Voltron and escaping through their own wormhole to a desolate solar system.

“You put the team at risk with that stunt, you two.” Shiro was straight to business after the mission debriefing. 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Lance said. “But I know you guys are smart and fast enough to get away. I figured an explosion like that wouldn’t even scratch a paladin of Voltron.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this. The risk was still present and you,” Shiro turned to Hunk, “need to know when to stop. You knew that wasn’t a good idea and you followed along with the dangerous plan. It’s okay to put your foot down, don’t let Lance bully you into doing something you think is bad.”

Lance spluttered, something boiling hot was pouring down his throat and flooding his senses. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ paint me as the bad guy here! I was doing what I thought was the only solution at the time. Coran and the castle were in danger and we didn’t have a second to spare thinking of a safe way to get out. I’m sorry it was so reckless and I didn’t run it by the team beforehand, but if I didn’t do anything, we wouldn’t have had a home anymore.”

“That’s the thing Lance, you  _ didn’t  _ think. I don’t think you  _ ever  _ think things through,” Shiro snapped.

There was a beat of silence after Shiro’s words. Lance felt the heat drain from his face. Those little niggling voices in the back of his mind came forward as if Lance just called them over for lunch and crowded the forefront of his mind. 

Shiro didn’t realize it was a low blow. A sharp intake of breath from Hunk and curse muttered under Pidge’s breath comforted Lance in a way. They’re reactions proved he wasn’t overreacting.

Without a word - no comeback danced on his tongue since it got stuck in his throat - Lance turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the control room. 

“Where are you going? We’re not done briefing, Lance. Lance!” Shiro called after him. He only gave a half hearted wave. The doors sliding shut behind him didn’t have the same effect slamming a door would have.

He grumbled under his breath and went straight to his room. A shower was calling for him to come cool his head down. The doors barely slid shut and locked before he was already stripping off his paladin armor and flinging it in every which way. The pieces clattered harshly against the metal interior of his room and echoed in the small space. Each  _ clang  _ and  _ thunk  _ reverberated tenfold in his head where he could feel the beginnings of a stress headache. 

After a long, much needed shower, Lance headed down to the hangers.

He didn’t know what was making him act out like this. It’s been building up: a dangerous, hot ball that tumbled and boiled in his chest. His heart ached, his limbs ached, his eyes ached. The worst part, he would think, is the cold in his head. There was no equilibrium between his head and chest, leaving him gasping and spluttering out whatever came to mind as if his tongue was frozen and swollen.

If his chest was heavy and hot, his head felt weak and light. Dark, even.

He knows what this lightness is, and he shudders to think of back in high school when it had hit him hardest. Three years he struggled to stay afloat from the grappling dark waters, three years of harsh breaths and bloodied nails before he panicked and called for help. He got better, made his family proud, and graduated to the Garrison despite his medical records. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health, then. 

But that was on Earth. There was sunshine and rain and peach colored roses, his mother’s hand to hold in the car, the garden his dad tended to in the backyard with beautiful azaleas, pinky hued sweet peas, stocks of gladiolus and sunflowers, and roses of all shades and sizes. 

Lance couldn’t remember what the roses smelled like. 

In space, it was dark. The stars were too far away to bathe him in golden light. The artificial gravity made his head spin sometimes. There was no wind banging against the old windows, groaning of aging wood, or the creaking front door. Space was so quiet that no sound travelled, the hum of the castle engines were more like a constant buzzing, and the doors slid open and shut with the softest hiss. 

The quiet dug a hole so deep it ached. At least when Keith was here, he had an excuse to make sound. Hunk and Pidge were always so busy with a project, while Shiro, Coran, and Allura had a coalition to organize.

He found himself outside Blue’s hanger doors. It must have been where his feet wanted to take him, but he doesn’t belong to her anymore. She rejected him and took in Allura before he was even in the Red Lion. He stared at the sealed doors, as if waiting for Blue to call his name and welcome him in. It never happened. And it never will again. 

Red’s hanger wasn’t too far from Blue’s. 

“Good evening, gorgeous,” he said, approaching Red.

No response. He wasn’t chatty like Blue.

“Can you believe Shiro? I apologized and he still felt the need to take a bite out of me. He’s been on edge and especially prickly since Keith up and left,” Lance huffed and climbed into the cockpit. 

“I’m doing my best, really. It’s been hard with the original team split like this. It’s all Keith’s fault for wanting to go off on his own ‘self-discovery’ mission with the Mamorites. We were fine, perfect really. Before the first time we kicked Zarkon’s ass we were all unstoppable. Now? We’re all falling apart at the seams, and I can’t do anything about it. It’s Keith’s selfishness that fractured Voltron.”

Lance took a deep breath. His eyes burned. “Allura? She’s so strong, but I can tell leading the coalition, piloting the castle, and being Blue’s pilot is taking a major toll on her health. If she didn’t have white hair already, she’d be greying. Hunk stress bakes now more than ever, and if he’s not doing that he’s stuck in an assignment with Coran and Pidge. I don’t think Pidge has gotten a good night's sleep since we got up here. Admittedly, she’s been a little better since we found Matt and Dr. Holt.  Coran looks. . . Different. Older. And not in the wiser way, he just looks exhausted. He doesn’t chat with me anymore. And Shiro? He disappears for hours on end and comes back and orders us around. It seems like he forgot our rule of the whole team having a say in all decisions. He overrides them and scolds us for messing up. Something must have happened during the few months he was gone. I can’t even find a chance to talk to him because he’s always missing or mad at me.

“Red, what do I do?” He groaned. 

There was gentle nudge. A feeling of  _ it’ll work itself out  _ whispered through his mind.

“But I need to do  _ something! _ Everything’s a mess and I’ve been so tired and on edge. I can’t think straight anymore, what can I do?”

_ Your best.  _

Lance groaned. That was all he was gonna get from him. 

Keith used to talk about his little chats with him, how he didn’t say much but always managed to say enough to clear his head. That wasn’t the same with Lance, apparently. Red tolerated him, didn’t move to his touch like Blue did or seemed to want anything to do with him outside of missions. His cockpit was so much warmer than Blue’s, but it was unlike the heat from home; it was an unfamiliar, dry heat. Artificial, like the gravity and air.

Red didn’t like him. Shiro wouldn’t listen to him. Pidge and Hunk kept a wide berth and  were too busy to even chat with him. Coran and Allura didn’t have time for him. 

He wished he left instead. Shiro’s back and piloting Black, and Blue clearly loves Allura now. Red, even with his harsh exterior, adored Keith. Lance could disappear and team Voltron wouldn’t need him. 

He let himself cry a little bit for the first time in a while, curled up in the stifling hot cockpit  that just wasn’t warm enough to dry his tears. 

There was a simple information retrieval mission at a Galran base near a star. The planet was too hot, the gravity too weak, and too much sulfur in the air to sustain life. Nevertheless, the Galra had a base drilled into the ground. This was a general hub that kept documents on everything from prisoners, to base locations, to war strategies. It was essential they got the information. 

Pidge, Shiro, and Lance were to infiltrate the base while Hunk and Allura were outside keeping an eye on the sky and ready to dive bomb if needed. The base consisted of a round, flat building with three towers protruding from three different corners. Each tower held information and worked as a hub for different sectors of the universe. The three inside the base needed to separate and infiltrate each tower simultaneously. All Lance and Shiro had to do was connect their gauntlets to the mainframe  computer and let Pidge transfer the data to the castle. After that, they were to make their escape to the Green Lion cloaked outside and set off a chain of bombs in each tower, effectively destroying it. 

So far, the plan was going smoothly. Lance was in his own tower, wrist connected to the computer and watched the percentage count up. The bomb was already planted, he just needed to pull the trigger then make a break for it. 

Of course, nothing ever goes smoothly with team Voltron. 

Voices echoed from the stairwell outside the door, coming closer. Lance swore under his breath and looked frantically for a place to hide. He crawled under the computer, arm bent at an awkward angle to keep the cable connected to the mainframe. The door slid open and the voices weren’t muffled anymore.

“-going swimmingly. We were able to track their movements almost to a T. The last update was from the Unarila System,” One of the voices said. Lance’s blood froze-  _ they were just stationed in the Unarila System.  _

“Any updates on the rebel movements?” The second said. He must be the Captain of the base.

“No, sir. But we should receive an update from Haggar on Project Kuron’s movements shortly.” 

“Excellent.”

_ Kuron? _ Lance mouthed the word, felt the roll of the  _ r _ curl of the  _ o  _ on his lips.

A pair of feet situated themselves right in front of Lance at the computer. The cable connected to his wrist wound up and was plugged in next to the Galra’s thighs. The percentage was up to 98%. 

“Updates are streaming in, sir,” the Galra in front of him read out. He tapped away at the keyboard. There was a pause ad the two gasped. 

“ _ They’re on the base!”  _

Pidge voice cackled through the receiver. “You’re all set, Lance. Let’s roll out.” 

“Pull up the feeds, find the intruders and capture them!” Ordered the captain. 

Lance pulled the cable back into his gauntlet and switched on his bayard to a small handgun. He announced his presence to the two with a gunshot to the foot of the Galra in front of him and rolled out from under the computer. 

“ _ Get him!”  _ The captain, a lean purple beast of a man in grey armor, cried out. 

The Galra Lance just shot at was on the ground clutching his foot, but he still reached out to tackle Lance. He rolled to his feet and tried to make a break for the door. Who was he kidding, Lance is a marksman, not a melee fighter. He couldn’t take these goons.

“Guys, they know we’re here! And for once it wasn’t my fault,” Lance yelled into the comms. “They said something about Project Ku-  _ fuck!” _

The captain made a beeline for him, fists raised and ready to clock Lance in the skull. Lance managed to dodge out of the way, but the guy was fast. He was like a nimble truck that wanted to kill him, all force and strength  with too much speed in those giant fists. Lance did managed to block a hit and land his own shot, the laser burned through the Galra’s armor and had him to cry out and recoil. Lance took the opportunity to land a solid kick to his knees and stumble. Lance barely got a step back before he was grabbed by the collar of his armor and thrown across the room like a ragdoll. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and left him wheezing, head spinning. 

“The Blue Paladin,” The Galra captain said. He kicked Lance’s bayard from his hands. It slid across the room and retracted into its bayard form with a flash of light. “I’m Captain Worit, a pleasure to meet the infamous sniper of Voltron. What are you, a mere marksman, possibly doing under my computer?”

“Playing Tetris, what else,” Lance snarked. His vision was too blurred to aim accurately. That impact had  _ hurt.  _ He was at least going to be bruised across his back by tomorrow.

“Don’t toy with me, child,” Worit grabbed the front of his armor and hoisted him up. Lance was a little offended how easily he was able to swing Lance around.

“Borick, call the sentries, have him taken to the prison block. If Kuron and Blue are here, the other’s must be near,” Worit barked to the Galran on the ground. Lance couldn’t see over Worit’s shoulder to see what was going on in the room.

“Yes, sir.” Seconds later, a blaring alarm and flashing red lights rang through the room.

A cackle was heard in his comms. “Lance? Where are you? Answer me!” It was Shiro.

His mind was still reeling from what he had just heard.

“Up in the tower still, Mr. Leader, sir,” he answered.

“Lance, why-” His response was cut off when Worit slammed him into the ground. Lance cried out as his head bounced harshly against the metal. He swore he heard a crack in his helmet. Static filled his ears and made the newfound headache even worse. Lance groaned, vision swimming, limbs too weak to move properly just yet.

“I don’t think so,” Worit snarled. 

Pounding feet reached the otherside of the door. He needed to make a break for it and set off the bomb  _ now. _ His bayard was halfway across the room, under the other Galran’s, Borick’s, knee.

Lance assessed the situation. A finite amount of sentries were about to kick down the door, he was compromised on the ground, unarmed, with two Galra’s capable of killing him in a heartbeat leered over him. A bomb was planted in the room that Lance had the trigger to.

He activated the bomb. The ominous  _ beep  _ followed by a countdown read in tics began to ring through the room. Worit and Borick whipped around to see the source, a round silver bomb stuck to the side of the monitor. They had less then ten dobashes to get out.

“Guys, do you copy? They know we’re here. I’ve activated my bomb. Catch you on the flipside.”

A muted static filled the comms, perhaps a response or a request for him to repeat what he said.

“You  _ imbecile!”  _ Worit kicked him harshly then dragged him back up to his knees. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Planted a bomb that’ll destroy your database? Yeah, that was on purpose.” Lance grinned a wide, wild, smile.

Worit roared and smashed his fist into the side of Lance’s head, and another solid hit to his abdomen. His vision spotted and head felt like he was hit by a truck. The crack he heard on impact could have been his own skull or the crack across his visor. Guess he won’t be going out into open space with that on. His limbs weren’t responding, all he could do was lay on his side and wheeze.

“Evacuate the tower, Borick. The mainframe is lost but we can get out with our lives,” Worit barked.

Borick scrambled to his feet and started limping toward the door. The footsteps of the sentries were retreating behind the door down the staircase. Worit turned as he was leaving to stare down at Lance.

“Blue Paladin, may this be your grave.” With that, the doors slid shut, the keypad blinked red indicating it was locked.

Lance managed to will himself up to crawl on his hands and knees to grab his bayard, then used the wall to help himself up. His vision swam and the room tilted dangerously. Bile  rose in the back of his throat and the ringing in his ears were louder than the static in his helmet. He still had time to get out of the tower. He took a few stumbling steps back from the door and leveled his bayard with the door, ramping up the settings on his rifle to explosive once more. The shots echoed loudly, the recoil tenfold more powerful. It shook his whole frame. The door wasn’t blasted down like Hunk’s cannon could, but it was weakened in the middle and allowed Lance to use a chair as a battering ram and tumble through the doors. He took a second to catch his breath, steady his spinning head, before he took off down the spiral staircase. 

His breath ached in his lungs, and every footstep pounded through his whole body, shaking around injuries he didn’t know he had. His ribs here definitely broken. And he had a concussion of some sort. Everything hurt; every breath through his lungs, every blink of his eyes, every time his foot hit the ground. Lance was almost at the bottom by the time the bombs went off. 

It was a chain reaction. The bomb at the top of the tower exploded, which set off the one at the level below it, and that one the level below, and so on. Lance could hear them going off, feel the walls and floors shaking with the force. Those things were so tiny, and yet they were causing so much destruction. If Lance got out of there alive, he would have to praise Hunk and Pidge for their handiwork.

The last bomb, at the bottom floor, was the biggest. And the closest to Lance. It was a moment of deja vu when he threw himself forward to the ground in an attempt to dodge it, too much like when he pushed Coran out of the way from the bomb the fake Rover set off. The heat was unbearable and the force of it flung him forward. If his ribs weren’t broken before, they definitely were now.

Unlike that one, this one didn’t hurt nearly as much. Sure, he was pretty sure the back of his suit was scorched and the ringing in his ears had doubled. The comms were a dull static in his awful ears. The crack in his visor couldn’t totally keep the dust from the bomb out. His vision was spotty with blotches of bright splotched and he felt blood trickle from his ear and down his jaw. He couldn’t move a muscle, but at least he was conscious. 

Red always came for Keith, maybe he’ll come for him. Bust down a wall and scream until he finds him. Pick Lance up gently into his maw and carry him to the castle with as much speed as he could muster. 

He called for him. He laid on the ground, entire body positively  _ burning  _ with agony and fear, and called for him to help him. Save him. He can’t move. Dark splotches had replaced the white. It made it harder to keep his eyes open. He wanted to sleep and wake up falling out of a healing pod into his teammates arms. That was a fantasy, though. No one has ever been there to catch him from falling out of a healing pod.

Lance kept calling for Red, pleaded with him to come save him. Please, please, please. Everything hurts. Everything burns. He can’t breath. The static is so numbing. The blood was dripping onto his visor. It was already cracked, scratched, and filthy. If his vision wasn’t blurring in and out of focus he wouldn’t be able to see out of it, anyway.

Who knows how long Lance laid there, begging Red to come save him. He gave up. 

Shiro and Pidge were probably doing something stupid like waiting for him to get to the Green Lion. They needed to get out of here. Lance wasn’t ready to die yet, either.

With a newfound resolved, he pushed every bit of strength and energy into standing up. It hurt so much. A cry slipped from his lips, a strangled sob caught in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he kept pushing. He used the wall as support and trudged down the halls. The door wasn’t too far, thank God. This area of the base was empty due to the evacuation, but that doesn’t mean they’ll send sentries here soon to see if he’s still around. 

It took forever, but Lance finally made it to the door. The comms were broken, the crack across his visor had brought the foul air of the planets atmosphere slowly but surely into his recycled air supply, and his suit was just generally trashed, especially in the back. Green was just around the corner, parked and invisible. That’s fine, only a five minute walk. Fifteen at his rate. He should be fine.

He wasn’t. The air was rich with sulfur and carbon monoxide, the lack of gravity made his rolling stomach tumble into somersaults, and the temperature wasn’t fit for a human to stand at all, even for only fifteen minutes. He was boiling in his suit, his lungs, nose, skin, and eyes felt scorchingly hot with every rattled breath. He wanted to lay down and let it all be over. His back felt wet. The bomb probably opened then cauterized a wound that all his movement had accidentally opened. His bones felt like they were splintering, ready to shudder and fall apart under his very skin. He just wanted a healing pod.

A blurred figure in black and white was running toward him. He couldn’t make out what he was saying, everything was so fuzzy. Shiro sounded angry, then panicked. He stopped in front of Lance and held his shoulders firmly, words tumbling from Shiro’s mouth that Lance wasn’t able to figure out. It was just more static. Shiro wrapped his arms gently around Lance and picked him up in a bridal carry. He hissed at the sudden jolt and the pressure on his back, but was glad to not be on his feet anymore.

He was laid gently on his side in the cockpit, head in Shiro’s lap with his fingers fluttering over his body. His senses were slowly checking out. He couldn’t hear a word he was saying, vision so blurred and spotted he couldn’t figure out any definite shapes. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep off the pounding headache, but he refused to black out until he was in the healing pod for the sake of his concussion. His tongue was heavy and dry in his mouth, his sense of smell was filled with that awful sulfuric smell, and every inch of his body screamed at him to please sleep, please black out already so you don’t have to suffer like this anymore.

They must have landed, because a familiar, large blob came into his line of sight. He was clearer than Pidge and Shiro had been. Even his words got past the ringing in his ears.

“Oh God Lance, answer me,  _ please _ ! Stay awake for a little longer, okay? Everything’s gonna be okay just-just say something, anything.”

He couldn’t. Hunk was panicking. He didn’t want that. Is this what dying felt like? He was starting to feel light, numb even. The pain that was so excruciating was still there, so he’s probably still alive.

It hurt when they moved him onto a stretcher, and when Coran had stripped him out of his armor. It hurt so much but he had no energy to cry out. His breathing was still labored, as if he had ran a marathon and then got pushed down a mountain.

When he was finally placed upright in the healing pod, he finally let himself black out. He didn’t even feel the cold encompass him. 

It’s always disorienting falling out. One second everything hurts and the next it’s cold and numbing. It was too soon to see how he was feeling.

Lance didn’t even bother try rightining himself up, just collapsed harshly to the ground on his knees. He took a deep, cooling breath of fresh air, and exhaled a frosty puff of leftover healing pod ice.

“ _ Lance!”  _ A voice rang out in the quiet room before he was encased in a set of warm arms. A familiar mustache tickled his ear.

“Hey, Coran,” Lance croaked. His voice was trashed.

“My boy, how are you feeling? That was a scary situation you got yourself into,” Coran said. He pulled back and looked over Lance with a calculating eye. “You seem to be in tip top shape. A little rattled, but otherwise okay. Do you mind if I check over your vitals to make sure everything is in working order?”

Lance nodded. Coran helped him stand on wobbly legs and over to the examination table. He sat Lance down and got to work checking his vitals and tenderly poking the areas that had been injured.

“Everyone’s asleep right now, including Allura. I had to bodily force Hunk out of here so he could get some sleep. The team’s been run ragged since right after the mission. They all camped out in here. I said I’d take tonight's watch since you needed someone to be here when you woke up,” Coran explained. “You’ve been out for almost three days. Gave us all a scare when Hunk pulled you out of Green in that condition.”

“What happened to the mission?” Lance asked quietly.

“It was a success, don’t you fret. We heard your part of your scuffle with the Galra on the comms, but then you set off the first bomb without Pidge’s instruction. Shiro was fuming, ready to chew your head off by the time you got back. But then your comms cut out and your suit was too damaged to properly track. Pidge and Shiro got out, but Allura and Hunk were under fire and couldn’t come down and retrieve you. Shiro and Pidge were just about to go back in and look for you before you stumbled out of the base. Two broken ribs, a concussion, a ruptured eardrum, second degree burns on your legs and back, and lungs were starting to swell from too much sulfur inhalation, and some minor carbon monoxide poisoning. Good thing we got you in time. You weren’t at an immediate risk of death, thankfully,  but you were in a lot of pain.”

Lance bowed his head. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone. I’ll apologize properly in the morning.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Just make sure to come to breakfast with a smile on your face, show you’re okay now.” Coran gave Lance a firm pat on the back. “And it seems like everything’s in working order- Lance?”

He was crying. Things aren’t okay. Shiro hates him, Red hates him, the team worried over him for no reason- losing precious time they need to refuel their energy and organize the Coalition. The heat in his chest and the cold in his head, the heavy feeling on his shoulders when he sat on his bed late at night, staring at the blank walls. How sometimes, when it’s really late, he could feel a cold hand wrap around his heart and clench it as if it’s trying to squeeze the life out of his heaving chest. The clamminess to his skin, aching in his limbs, the exhaustion that was bone deep and no matter how much he slept and fought it wouldn’t go away. Eating was a chore, sleeping (when it came to him) was an escape, and the color red would never look good on him.

He missed his home,  missed his family, missed his little twin bed with the Sally Ride and Orion Nebula posters hanging on the cream walls. The glint of the blue, blue, blue ocean on the horizon, his dad’s amaryllis he grows for his deceased mother, his mom’s warm hand on his. Lance couldn’t stop the dam that had finally broken, and Coran was there to witness his breakdown.

“Lance, what’s wrong?” Coran tenderly placed his hand on Lance’s shaking arm. He could only shake his head and cry harder. Fat tears dribbled down his face and his breaths came out in harsh gasps through quivering lips. He probably looked like a sniveling idiot; glassy eyes, a runny nose, and a blotchy red face. He shakily reached out and fell into Coran’s arms, rubbing tears and snot into his nice coat. He hoped Coran had a way to get it out.

“It hu-urt,” he gasped. “It hurt so much and I called for him, I-I called for Red. I begged him to-to come and help me. I couldn’t move, my comms were broken, and-and he wouldn’t come save me. He hates me, Coran. I’m-I’m not  _ Keith  _ to him. I’m trying to be  _ him _ , so he would like me, love me like he did him, but he won’t  _ accept _ me.”

Coran stiffened over him, but Lance continued.

“I’m so mad, and sad, and empty all the time. I miss talking to Blue. It’s been so quiet and somber around here and it’s getting to my head.” Lance launched into a spiel. He spilled everything that’s been bothering him, from the weird distance with his teammates, the thing with Shiro, to how scared he is that he might be relapsing and what that would entail if he did. Words about his homesickness that gnawed at his very core, the awful heat, the freezing cold, and that vague sense of hopelessness that boiled and sloshed about in his being slipped from his tongue. His uncaring attitude for his own wellbeing, the “snap” decision making he’s been doing, the mood swings, the negative drops. Maybe the healing pod made his lips loose, or maybe Coran is just such a comforting figure to be around that Lance was able to tell him all this. Whatever it was, once Lance started talking, he couldn’t stop.

Lance doesn’t know how long he cried, sobbed and whined into Coran’s coat. It took far too long for him to calm down to wet sniffles and a pounding headache that had nothing to do with the carbon monoxide or concussion. 

It was a while before either of them spoke. “Lance, my boy, I’m so, so sorry you have felt this way. No one deserves to feel this way.” 

“Coran, don’t-“ 

“No, I have to apologize,” Coran interrupted. “This is no more your fault than it is any of ours. You didn’t tell us, but we failed to notice there was something wrong. Your behavior has been off for a while and none of us bothered to check in on you. I’m going to have a firm talk to the team about it, especially Shiro. He hasn’t been the leader he should be to you, for any of us.” 

Lance nodded numbly in response. He couldn’t believe it, almost didn’t want to believe. 

“As for Red, you have that idea in your head you might be stuck following in Keith’s footsteps. You are not him, and Red can see that. We all know you’re not Keith, except you. Now.” Coran clapped his hands and stood up. “You two need to bond more than anything. Red is the toughest and second pickiest of the bunch. I have an idea of what you can do.”

It was a “mission” just for Lance on the following night. He made Coran swear not to tell the others that his bond with Red was so weak he had to go on a mini vacation with him to try and get to know each other. Coran gave him a disapproving look, but promised not to tell.

“I’ve come up with a cover story that you’ll be gone for a movement retrieving some rare minerals for the ship. This technically isn’t a lie, per say, I’m just bumping up the priority and extensiveness of the trip so you may do your thing. But please, do pick up some oberionus,” Coran explained. “You have one movement, but if you need more time, send me a message.”

“What about the team?” Lance asked.

“They’ll be alright. Hunk and Shiro have that recon mission to the Sullerian System in a couple days, and Pidge is working on that tracking device.”

“But the meeting with the Blade tomorrow afternoon, the  scaultrite mission after the recon mission, spa day with Hunk and Allura-”

“You’re bond with Red is far more important than the scaultrite and a silly spa day.” Coran pushed Lance toward Red’s dock. “Now go, before someone finds you leaving.”

“Hunk’s gonna kill me for leaving without saying goodbye,” Lance reasoned.

“And use my looney, old thinking hole that worked myself into a panic thinking that I need oberionus now and sent you in the dead of the sleep cycle to retrieve some.”

“The comms, they could-”

“I’ll tell them not to bother you, but I’ll keep one open by me at all times so you may reach me in case of an emergency.”

“But-“ 

“ _ Go!” _

Lance was ushered through the hanger doors and pushed toward Red. He turned to see the doors sliding shut behind him. The last thing he saw was Coran’s grin and determined eyes. 

The trip was a few hours away, even in the fastest lion. Coran didn’t want to bring the castle too far off course in case it alerted the team. It was awkwardly silent the whole ride, Lance not used to being alone in Red for so long without the comms alight with chatter from his team. 

“So, uh, come here often?” A weak attempt. He didn’t get a response. 

“That was lame. How about, are you the moon? Because even when it’s dark you still seem to shine.” Nothing.

“Are you a star? Because I can’t stop orbiting around you.” A wink in his mind, a feeling of  _ lame  _ came from him. It was a reaction, but not the one he was looking for. 

“If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I'd have a galaxy in my hand.” A huff.

“Are you an exoplanet? Because I’m bad at astronomy and pick up lines,” Lance groaned. No he isn’t, he has a whole arsenal under his belt. He misses Blue’s chirps and purrs of appreciation whenever he told her his pick up lines. 

“How about some music? Do you wanna hear anything in particular?” 

_ You’re chatty. _

A wave of pride swept through Lance. A response! “Yeah, it’s my charm. So, how about it? Do you like anything in particular?” 

He didn’t get a response. He had his phone plugged into a dock Pidge had crafted for him that would work like a car stereo and AUX cord. Lion Stereo. He put the whole thing on shuffle, all 1,500 songs. What can he say, he’s not picky with his music. 

Red didn’t say anything, except when one of the  _ Inuyasha _ openings came on and he gave a small growl in the back of his mind. He quickly changed it to the next song. Apparently, Red isn’t a fan of  _ Inuyasha _ . 

The planet they were sent to, Lucifius, is exactly how Lance pictured it when Coran has told him the name. It looked like if the biblical Hell had its own planet.

Lucifius was lit with volcanic activity, glowing red with mottled black volcanic rock. Debris floated around the molten rock of a planet, two large chunks of debris circled it ominously. It reminded Lance of Earth’s Hadeon Eon, where baby Earth was still forming and covered in lava and being pounded by meteorites. Thankfully, this place wasn’t constantly being attacked by space debris.

“I can see why Coran said this is your favorite spot. Fire, death, destruction. It’s right up your alley,” Lance said. Red huffed, but was already making way through the thin atmosphere. 

Lance would have to keep his suit on at all times since the air was too hot and couldn’t sustain any bit of life. Fun. He had few weeks of rations stored and a change of clothes. Sadly, Red didn’t come equipped with a shower. Neither did Blue. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if Black has one, she was so big already. 

They landed on one of the larger patches of black rock. Lance climbed out of the cockpit, double-checked to ensure his helmet was sealed shut, and hopped out onto the hot ground. It was boiling out there, even through the thermo-regulated suit. He figured he’d scout the area first, maybe search for that mineral Coran needs.

He could feel the heat through the bottoms of his boots, like he was walking on asphalt on a hot, summer day in too-thin flip flops. The kind of heat he couldn’t stop walking for too long or it would soak through his soles and melt the rubber.

The land was black from volcanic rock, hilly and uneven from the volcanoes he can see at every horizon. The closest, by the looks of it, was a stratovolcano. If Lance remembered correctly, he’d have to get the hell out of the area if it started to erupt. 

There were rivers and pools of lava, hot enough that he was sweating through his suit. He cursed Red for not having a shower. He couldn’t get too close to any of the streams. The ground was too fragile, and more than once he almost fell in when the ground gave out under his feet and crumbled into the lava. The eerie red glow of the place, the muted rumbling, and even the sound of his own heavy breathing ringing in his ears was the only sound. He was the only living thing on this hell of a planet.

“Why, Red, do you feel a connection to this literal  _ planet hell _ ? Have you heard that song yet?  _ Planet Hell? _ I’ll show it to you later, we have a week to chill out and listen to music and stuff. I’m gonna figure out what you like,” he said through labored breaths. He was so used to the medically cold castle that the heat was already getting to him. 

He stopped, a roaring sound filled his ears. It wasn’t like the sound of the crumbling rock and rumbling of volcanic eruptions, but a cackling sound that was all too familiar to his ears. Lance climbed over a steep hill of black rock, hands scrambling for purchase and maybe smashing his knee into a sharp edge, but he got to the top and gasped at the sight that greeted him.

A lake of fire. It wasn’t lava, he thinks, just a large basin of flames that licked the sky. It burned his eyes to look at burned the armor on his limbs, burned whatever atmosphere this planet had managed to maintain. 

“Huh, weird,” he said. It reminded him of  _ Paradise Lost,  _ where Lucifer fell into the deepest, darkest crevice of Earth by a lake made of fire, where he rallied his army for support to stop any of God’s plans. He huffed out a short laugh. The planet was even called Lucifius. Lance looked up briefly, as if waiting for an army of angels to fall down on the lake shore. 

It was getting too hot for him, and the air supply he had loaded up on was running low. Red was about a half hour walk away so he figured he should start heading back. Red sat waiting for him on the rocky plane he left him on, just a little ashy from the thick air.

“Heeellooo, starshine, did’ya miss me?” He climbed into the cabin in his belly, where he had a makeshift bed, a table that was actually a crate, and a cabinet that he kept his rations and first aid supplies. He stripped from his armor, down to his boxers and threw himself into his cot. He didn’t know what time it was, and he didn’t care. He was exhausted and sticky with sweat and the ash his filter had failed to keep out. He couldn’t wait for a shower when he got back. 

He drifted off talking to Red about anything that came to mind, useless information to him, but calming for Lance. After his nap, he ate some dried food goo (made to last without the fridge to keep it cool, but tasted way worse than regular goo) and downed a water pouch before getting his armor back on and heading out again with a bucket. Coran had loaded up a file for him to go over so he could figure out what the oberionus looked like. Might as well get it done early, so he had the rest of the week to bond with Red. His knee twanged a bit in pain with every step from when he knocked it into the rocky ledge earlier, but it wasn’t bad enough to stop.

The oberionus was easy to find. It was a silver black material, smoother than the jagged lava rock. It was as soft as talc, so it could be dug out with a little bit of pushing. He tried using his bayard to loosen the rock by firing a few shots into the ground. The ricocheted back and one nearly nailed Lance in the face. He fell back to the ground with a yelp. Digging it is. He de-transformed his bayard and started using it as a makeshift hammer to loosen the material. May Allura not learn of this. Once the bucket was full of the shimmery rock, he headed back to Red.

His knee still ached, but now his back and left arm were sore from kneeling on the ground and hacking at rock for who knows how long. He couldn’t tell how time passed on this planet; the sky was too dark with soot to see the nearby star.

It was after another nap that he got a call from Coran.

“How are you- oh dear, what happened to you?” Coran greeted him. His face was almost pressed against the screen. “It’s been only a day, and yet you’re so filthy?”

“I’m alright. It’s hot, I hit my knee, and there’s too much ash for my filter to deal with,” Lance said.

“You’ll need a nice, long bath when you get back.”

“Please. Oh!” Lance reached down into the bucket next to him and pulled out a chunk of oberionus to show Coran. “I got a lot today. I’m gonna get a little more later.”

“Excellent! Thank you, Number Three.” Coren clapped his hands in joy. They stayed on the line and chatted just for a few more minutes, but Coran was obviously tired since it was late into the night cycle there.

There was no way to tell time on Lucifius, due to the lack of star in the sky or obvious change in atmosphere that indicated night or day. It was always hot, and the sky was always black. It was easy to get lost in thought.

Lance had a lot to think about. As selfish as it sounds, he thought of himself mostly. Red was there, would say a word or two then was quite for several hours (Lance thinks, its a rough estimate). Every once and a while a volcano a little too close for comfort would erupt with such a ferocious power it shook the ground enough for Lance to kneel over. Clouds of dust and dirt rained upon him and sometimes even a few decent sized rocks would nail him. He had a dent in his helmet from a stray piece of pyroclastic rock. The ash was so fine and absolutely everywhere his filters couldn’t possibly keep up. He had to retrieve back into Red from ash inhalation before his oxygen tank even ran out. He was used to the smell of ash and sweat. 

It scared him a bit, with all the ash. He remembered back in high school during and Earth Science class when his teacher told them that ash from a volcanic eruption can kill them if they inhaled enough, cementing in their throat and lungs until they would suffocate to death. He was coughing a lot, but if it got too bad, he figured worst case scenario would be to hop back in Red and fly back to the castle ship. 

But he was determined to see it through. He had to bond with Red and figure out himself before he can face his team again. It was cowardly to run away in the dead of the sleep cycle so he could have a self-reflection mission with his lion.

Red? He barely cooperated. He stood still and kept his shields up to keep the ash and pyroclastic rocks from hitting him. It was nice retreating into Red after a day of wandering around. 

He watched the oozing lava, how it carved its way into the land, melted the ground with its incredible heat and reshaped the rock to its will. It’s pretty powerful, slow yet so destructive. Lance never thought he’d just casually be hanging around erupting volcanoes like it was no big deal, since from a young age he was used to hurricanes and tsunami warnings, never a volcanic eruption. Everything he knew was from science classes and videos, warned him of their destructive power and the millions of deaths they’ve caused throughout Earth history. And here he sat, gazing as a river of lava like it was a normal day out by the beach and watching runoff. 

The oberionus collecting was easy. Lance got it done by, what he figured, about day three. He was out of units to store it in three days. The tablet he brought with him brought some entertainment with Altean books he logged and translated. Coran didn’t really give him much time to pack, and actually told him not to bring entertainment with him. It wasn’t like he could hook up  _ Killbot Phantasm 2 _ to Red anyway. 

But Coran had made it clear that Lance needed to use this time with Red, to think about them and what they are. Who Lance is.

He has a week to take his own self-discovery journey, while Keith got however long he wanted.

“At least Keith’s doing something,” Lance grumbled and kicked a rock in frustration. Red hadn’t said a word to him in  _ hours.  _ “He’s off saving the universe one dangerous ninja mission at a time, I’m stuck on this stupid, too hot rock without like, a movie theatre out here.” He plopped down onto a large rock with a grumble and smeared his hands across his visor,  a weak imitation of rubbing his face. Grime and soot that were stuck to the very fibers of his gloves just made the space plexiglass even dirtier. “I want a bath, I want to cry for a couple hours in that bath, and then I wanna sleep for five years after crying in an actual bed.”

_ You’ll need several baths to get that dirt off you. _

Lance hissed. “And  _ you, _ you decide to speak whenever you want to make fun of me or question my decisions. Why do you do that? Why do you feel the need to hurt my already fragile ego?” She didn’t respond.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Coran called regularly to give Lance updates, but he’d stopped answering a couple calls ago. Sitting alone on this planet, with a stubborn, sentient  robot Lion as his companion, filled Lance’s blood with slime. Unfiltered doubts and cloying, black clouds filled his head and it only got murkier as the days dragged on. His naps were shorter, the food rations were barely touched, and despite it being dangerous for Lance to get out of Red for too long, he did so anyway. He explored the black rocks and the red lava and watched the shapeless, ashy sky drift by. He could feel it, himself pulling away from his body. His burning eyes and smokey lungs barely hurt anymore. 

Red spoke without a vocal prompt from Lance one day. He had been sitting by one of the rivers of boiling lava and watching the glowing gold and red drift by him. He knew it was hot, knew scientists have lost drones that have gotten too close to the lava. He felt himself leaning forward, right arm reaching out towards the molten rock. He wondered how sturdy the suit was. If it would protect him from hot lava. His fingertips burned and he wasn’t even close to poking it and-

A mental force shoved him backward, flat on his ass and away from the river.   _ Don’t be a fool. _

Lance sneered and didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Two could play at that game, he thought. 

Before he knew it, his one week was up. Coran kept calling and calling; the call dropped, then rang again. The insistent beeping filled the cockpit and the flashing red of the screen with a little cartoon image of the castle. Lance reluctantly sat in the pilot’s seat and answered the call.

“My boy fina- Oh dear,” Coran started. “You look like you’ve been niggled by a Numbalistc.”

“I don’t know what that means, but thanks,” Lance said.

“Nevermind that, are you done with. . . collecting the oberionus?” Coran gave Lance a sly wink.

He froze. Technically, yes he was done. But that’s not what Coran was asking. “I’m. . . No. I need a little more time.”

Coran nodded solemnly. “Take your time, the team needs you back, but they need you better even more. Don’t worry about us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. This is important.” Coran perked up. “I talked to the team the other day! I didn’t tell them anything too personal, just that you’ve been plagued by self-doubts and psychic mimesis for a while now and they need to get their acts together. You haven’t been answering my calls, but Hunk and Pidge really miss you. Yesterday, I found Hunk laying on the kitchen floor and moaning about your absence.”

“Wait- psychic what?”

“Psychic mimesis. It’s a theory, really, never truly tested. But you’ve been portraying signs of it. Part of this mission was to give you an opportunity to break yourself out of it before it’s too late.”

“But what does that mean?” Lance leaned forward in his seat.

“It’s an idea of after one experiences loss, they pick up traits as a form of coping,” Coran explained. “Instead of mourning, they replaced the person they lost with themself. Usually it’s associated with death, so in your case it might just be drilled into your psych. After you told me everything you’ve been experiencing, I did some research and stumbled across this term. It was actually mentioned once in a journal from your Earth.  _ Twelfth Night,  _ are you familiar with that? It’s what it’s linked too.”

“I-what? Yeah, of course I am.”

“I’ll send you some of my research on the topic. And do think about it, I could be wrong but it’s a start.”

“Coran, I have depression,” Lance said.

“I know, I know, and this can still give you something to work with on your self-discovery mission. Oh! One last thing before I hang up,” Coran said. “We’re having a huge meeting between the Blade, the Rebellion, and Lotor this coming movement to figure out plans for snuffing the rebellion of Galra Commanders. So, no rush, but we would like you there.”

Lance froze. “No rush, right? Just figure myself in a week, okay. Yeah, I’ll, uh, see what I can do.”

“Alrighty, good luck, m’boy and-” The connection was cut off.

“Oops, bad reception here I guess.” Lance lifted his finger from the end call button.

He felt bad for cutting the call on Coran, but he was losing the will to speak to anyone anymore. A few moments later, an alert came in from the castle. The files Coran promised him. With nothing else to do, he opened the file and took a look at the notes. There wasn’t much on the topic, most of them stemming from old Earth journals on Shakespeare’s  _ Twelfth Night _ . 

“‘One incorporates the lost object and identifies with it; a self becomes a self ‘,” he read out. He froze, realizing what Coran was trying to say. “Red, do you think I’ve trying to become Keith?”

A blip in the corner of his mind. A nod of confirmation from Red.

“But. . .” he trailed off. There was no buts. The impulsiveness. The attitude. The hot and cold, he was trying to fill Keith’s shoes as the Red Paladin. He was trying to become  _ Keith _ . That hurt to think about, to even consider he had been trying to unconsciously turn himself into Keith after they lost him to the Blade. 

“I’m  _ not  _ the red paladin,” he muttered, his breath barely a whisper.

_ You aren’t the Red Paladin.  _

“But I want to be the Red Paladin.”

_ You can become the Red Paladin. _

“How?”

_ Open your eyes. _

He didn’t realize his eyes were closed until he told him to open them. He couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped from his lips.

The black and glowing, red landscape was gone and replaced by a lush, golden meadow that reminded Lance of Earth. The trees and hills surrounding the gilded brush was in an array of autumn colors; the deepest reds to the softest yellows, burnt oranges and rich golden leaves and bushes and brush and grass. A golden sunset sky arched overhead. The whole landscape was still, much more like a photograph was placed in front of Red’s eyes instead of them sitting in an eerily Earth-like autumn meadow. 

“Where are we?” Lance whispered, afraid to raise his voice in the unmoving landscape. He climbed out of the pilot’s chair and descended the ramp. Unlike an Earth meadow, there wasn’t a single sound. No birds, no rustling leaves, no breeze to brush through the leaves and tall grass. It was startlingly still. 

He tentatively stepped down the ramp and waded through the grass that brushed his thighs. His suit wasn’t giving him any readings, all the lights and sensors were shut off. He pulled the helmet off his head, feeling the crisp air brush against his damp cheeks. The soft yellow light from the sun threw the whole landscape into a soft, golden haze. 

“Is this the mindscape Shiro mentioned? I thought I’d be in space, not the meadow scene from  _ Twilight,”  _ he said. He turned back toward Red only to freeze. A figure stood in front of him.

“Keith?”

Keith was there, in his Red Paladin armor and bayard clutched in his hand. His face was expressionless, eyes glowing with an unnerving light.

“Keith? What are you doing in my head hole?” Lance asked again and took a step toward him. He was blocking Red.

Keith raised his bayard and pointed it at Lance, it’s form flashing into the familiar sword and aimed directly at Lance.

He raised his arms defensively. “Hey, buddy, what are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Keith lunged at Lance with an inhumane speed. Lance yelped and dove out of the way from the sharp blade and pulled out his own bayard. The broadsword flashed into his hands just in time for him to block Keith’s next attack.

“Stop that! We’re a team, man!” He gasped out. Keith was fast, really fast, built for close quarters combat and to wield a sword like it’s an extension of his arm. Lance was forced into defense to combat Keith’s quick parries and lunges. The broadsword felt too slow, too heavy, in his grasp against the shart jabs and slashes from Keith. He was wheezing, struggling to catch his breath and keep up with the barrage of attacks. 

A particular blow made him stumble back. Keith took the opening to kick out the legs from under Lance, sending him into the tall grass. The wind was knocked out of him, his vision blurred. He didn’t get a second to catch his breath since Keith had lifted his sword to land the killing blow. A brief thought of  _ if I died in the astral plane, would he die in real life?  _ flashed through his mind. He rolled out of the way and shifted his broadsword to a handgun.

“Sorry, dude,” he said, not really sorry, and shot Keith in his hand. Keith didn’t even flinch at the blast, but his arm was jerked back and forced him to drop his sword. Lance lunged, but Keith rolled out of the way and moved toward his bayard. Lance kicked the bayard away from Keith’s grasp and shot a hole through the back of his sword hand. There was no blood.“That, I’m actually sorry for, bud- _ oof.” _

A heel swept out from his peripheral and landed a solid kick into his ribs. He stumbled away from Keith, barely raising his bayard in time to block the next attack.

Keith was, despite Lance having a really big sword in his hand and Keith didn’t, was able to push Lance into defense. He was barely able to keep up with Keith’s precise punches and sharp kicks. 

A fancy move of Keith’s knocked the heavy broadsword out of his hand and into the tall grass too far away to reach. Lance gulped. 

Keith charged at him. Lance, even with his tremendously improved hand-to-hand combat, was taken down in mere seconds in the face of Keith’s years of martial arts training. They tumbled through the grass, Lance fighting dirty by scratching and pulling at Keith’s mullet. Keith didn’t make a single sound.

It ended with Keith pinning Lance down by the throat. He scratched across Keith’s armored wrists in a weak attempt to pull him off. His vision was growing fuzzy due to the lack of oxygen. Keith’s armor was still spotless.

_ Is this what you want?  _ Red touched the back of his mind.

“N-no,” he choked out.

_ Is this want you want to become?  _

Keith’s face cracked, like is was made of delicate porcelain. Hairline fractures raced up his cheeks and the pale skin chipped away to reveal smooth, tan skin.

The mask fell away completely to reveal Lance’s own face staring down at him, still donned in the spotless, Red Paladin armor. His face, like Keith’s was void of any emotion.

_ Are you willing to lose yourself to become him? _

“No. . .” His vision was turning fuzzy around the edges. It was still really weird seeing himself choking him. 

_ Take him out. Destroy that idea. _

Lance glanced to his right. His bayard laid next to him. He grappled with the handle and willed it to transform into a handgun. Without a moment's hesitation, with his vision swirling, he shot a hole through the side of Faux Lance’s head. 

He fell to the side, dead before he hit the ground. Lance sucked in a deep breath and coughed with the weight suddenly off his throat. It took him a moment to catch his breath, scrambling up to his feet on shaky steps, bayard de-transformed. 

The Faux Lance laid on his side, a hole shot clear through the side of his head. There was no blood. 

In horror, Lance watched the Faux Lance’s corpse decompose. His skin bloated and scabbed, eyes bulged from his sockets until he shriveled up with the rest of his body. Time sped forward as the other Lance eroded away and buried itself into the ground. From that spot, erupted brilliant red poppies. They quickly spread past the grave and took over the golden meadow, as if a sharp wind blew in the color red. It all happened within a moment. 

“That was really gross, why did you make me see that?” Lance gagged a bit at the decomposing corpse. “The flower thing was cool, though.”

_ Who are you? _ The sky had turned from the muted yellow to a sunset of brilliant reds, hues of gold airbrushed the sky.

“I’m Lance,” he said. His hands shook.

_ Who are you?  _ The trees surrounding them were no more than mere shadows, like a looming audience waiting for his answer. 

“I’m a Paladin of Voltron, pilot of the Red Lion and Guardian Spirit of Fire.” His lungs ached, eyes burned.

_ Who are you? _

“I’m the sharpshooter, right hand man, strategist, and lover boy.” Why did he feel so dizzy?

_ Why? _

“I want to save the universe, but more than anything I want to go home. I miss  _ mi familia,  _ I miss Varadero, I miss the food and the people, my bed and the ocean,” Lance sighed. His head was swimming. “But, I’m still scared.”

_ Why? _

“I’m a failure,” his voice was practically a whisper. "I’m the worst pilot, the worst fighter, the worst person to be around. I can shoot a gun, I guess. I could leave and it wouldn’t matter. Keith could just come back and pilot you again.”

_ Why would I let him? _

“He’s everything I’ve. . . I’ve ever wanted to be.” Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “He’s so talented, strong, a skilled fighter and pilot. He’s good at everything he does, and doesn’t even brag about it. He just does it ‘cause it’s the thing to do.”

_ Let me rephrase that. Why won’t I let you leave? _

“What?” Lance’s voice cracked.

_ Why wouldn’t I let you leave, cub? _

A soft warmth filled his heart at the affectionate nickname from Red. “I’m your paladin, I guess? I’m a good shot. Uh, a cool dude, probably.”

Red didn’t say anything, patiently waited for Lance to keep talking.

“I make snap decisions, I’m not as good as Hunk at reading people, but I can make conversation with them. I’m good at analytical stuff like critical thinking and reading comprehension, but that can’t really help in war when it’s all about science and killing stuff. I played a lot of those first person shooters in an arcade by the beach a lot during the summers, and I’m a extrovert and a socialite, so that’s probably good for diplomatic stuff if I don’t fuck up. I do my best to take care of my team.” He stopped and took a deep, ragged breath. “They’re all so amazing, and I want them to be the best they can be. I want them to succeed, to grow into the incredible people I know they’re gonna become. I want the whole universe to know how great they are.”

_ I don’t care for the others, I only care for you. Why would I make you stay?  _

Lance froze. Why would he? Lance looked up at Red, framed in the red light and red poppies. 

_ Why would I have chosen you, over all the others during the lion switch?  _

His mouth felt dry. “I needed to go somewhere, and you needed a pilot since Keith was with Black.” 

_ Stop lying.  _ Lance flinched.  _ Do I really need to say it?  _

_ “ _ Probably, I’m kind of dense.” 

_ As you said, you’re an excellent marksman and strategist, and can think on your feet. You have the potential to be a great diplomat, and you value your family and friends above all. You’re a skilled pilot, otherwise I wouldn’t let you fly me-  _ Lance snorted-  _ and you might not be the best fighter amongst the team, but you’re determined to improve. You’re not my previous Paladin, and never will be, but you’re my current paladin and that’s what really matters.  _

The mindscape of red on red on red was blurring at the edges. Tears fell freely from his eyes and dripped down his cheeks, a headache pounded a steady rhythm behind his eyes. 

_ You and Keith, are not the same, remember, but different sides of the same coin. You’re his foil, and he yours. Keith is the forest fire, quick and wild and destructive.  _

As if to prove a point, the scenery erupted into flames. Thick, black smoke covered the red sky horizon to horizon, the trees alight like torches. Ash and sparks threatened to befall the field of poppies. There was no heat or ash to choke him to death. 

_ And you, my cub, are steady and even in your path of destruction, like the viscouscious flow of lava.  _

The meadow dissolved away from the burning towers of trees to a flat land of black, volcano rock and red-hot rivers of lava, just like  Lucifius. 

_ You’re both different, unique, yet alike in that passion that drives you. That’s why I picked you. You’re special in my eyes, a different kind of special that Keith can never be.  I know you miss Blue, and she misses you dearly, but this is what must be done with our current situation.  _

“It didn’t seem like that when she cut me out without a word.” That wound was still fresh. 

_ Until he returns, you must settle for me. _

“Settle for you? Wait, Red no! You’re wonderful!” Lance floundered. “I would never-“

_ Go. You’re in danger. You mustn’t stay here any longer. Your body will perish. _

As if he had snapped his magical cat paws, there was a flurry of color and light and the air was sucked out of Lance’s lungs. He blinked and he was back in Red’s cockpit. He gasped sharply, only to break down into a heavy cough. 

The sensors on the dashboard were going wild. Flashing red lights and alarms blared around him, the outside sky blacked with heavy smoke and dangerous sparks. His cheeks felt wet. The burning pain in his chest and throat he realized, was ten times worse once out of the mindscape. Red had muted its effects, but not it hit him full blown. He doubled over coughing and wheezing, spitting up ashy grey saliva. It took him a moment to come to. 

Still wheezing, Lance gave a quick survey of the flashing alarms determined that Red’s oxygen was low, the air filtration system was damaged, and there was an emergency incoming call from the castle. He checked around the cockpit and found his helmet, filthy and dented, laying on the floor at his feet. He shoved that on his head and activated the full-face. He took a deep breath, but his burning lungs protested. An alarm flashed in the corner of his helmet’s screen. Oxygen low, air filtration compromised. 

There was a haze over the cockpit, Lance realized. He ran a quick diagnostic, the problems picked up and listed in a diagram of Red for Lance to pick out where the issues laid. It was all internal, and nothing Lance could do without the aid of Hunk and his toolbox back in the castle. 

A new alert popped up on his dash. Ignoring the incoming call from the Castle, he answered the one from the Blade of Marmora. 

“Lance!” It was Keith. His heart did somersaults in his chest. Bits of his fight with him in Red’s mindscape flashed across his mind’s eye. That wasn’t Keith, he told himself, it was Red trying to prove his goddamn point.

“Keith!” He parroted back.

Keith, the real Keith, looked frazzled. “Where are you?! Why aren’t you answering your comms? Everyone at the castle is worried  _ sick.  _ They called me to see if I could get ahold of you!”

“Sorry,” Lance said. His voice sounded wrecked, scratchy and hoarse between his wheezing breaths. 

“Don’t- are you alright?” Keith squinted and leaned close to the screen. “It looks like you hotboxed yourself in there.” 

“I didn’t even know you knew what that means,” Lance wheezed. 

Keith furrowed his brows, then quickly shook off his confusion. “The team has been trying to contact you for a while now. They brought the castle into orbit around Lucifius, but they’ve detected that the planet’s unstable. There’s been an increase in seismic activity due to the supervolcano you’re parked by is about ready to blow. Pidge managed to calculate that it’s gonna erupt pretty soon and they’re trying to warn you to get the hell out of there before you and Red get buried alive in pyroclastic shit.”

“That’s. . . oh jeez, yeah I’m heading out. Tell the team to get my hanger open and maybe get me a bath ready.”

“You do it.” With that, Keith ended the call and left Lance alone with his blaring alarms. 

He rejected the call from the Castle. His nerves were still too frayed to confront the team yet, especially after his radio silence.

The ground below Red started to tremor, a harsh vibration that sent Lance careening forward to grip the controls in a white-knuckled grip in an attempt to hold him steady.

“We gotta jet, Red,” he said. Red growled in response. Through the dashboard screens, Lance could see an ominous black cloud approaching at a dangerous speed, rolling down the hills of the largest volcano. Thunder and lightning crackled across the hazy horizon, a storm drawn in by the sheer power of the volcano’s power. 

The take off was shaky. The ground beneath Red’s paws was shaking so much he could barely get a solid push off the planet’s rocky surface, but he was airborne and on his way back home.

Lance barely got out a whoop of joy before the black cloud of pyroclastic flow overcame Red and plunged the ship into complete darkness. Harsh thuds echoed through the cabin from the bombs hitting the hull, sounding a lot like a hale storm but so much worse. The air filtration system couldn’t keep up with the barrage of black ash, filling the cockpit with a heavy smoke. The force of the flow knocked Red off course and beat them to and fro with the force of the 400 mile per hour current, the superheated gases scorching Red’s exterior. They tumbled through the mass of black cloud, the dashboard barely visible behind the veil of smoke. Lance’s wheezing breaths echoed in his ears. 

Red was too small to take this much force on him. Lance needed to fly out of here ASAP before he took anymore damage. He rode through the smoke where it felt thinnest, praying to every god out there that this would take him up and out of the planet’s atmosphere. Red shook so hard through the atmospheric turmoil, Lance could feel his teeth clicking. He wouldn’t be surprised if he shattered a tooth.

In a heart stopping moment, that whoop of joy Lance had previously bit back echoed over the din of alarms that still blared in Red’s cockpit as they emerged from the mass of pyroclastic flow and out into the stratosphere. He did a twirl through the air, but was knocked off course by a stray, very large, bomb that knocked into Red’s hind legs and had him spinning.

Lance managed to straighten out their course, but it was difficult to see where they were going with the ash that clung to Red’s exterior and the smoke that filled the cockpit. The castle came into view on the outskirts of the planet’s gravitational field. It was in orbit, as close as it could get.

Due to the display screen being compromised, and both the cockpit and his helmet being fogged with soot, the landing in Red’s hanger was pretty rockey. In fact, he clipped the side of the doors and tumbled through the runway. He jerked forward in his seat and slammed his head against the dashboard, momentarily blacking out. They came to a screeching halt in Red’s landing pad. 

Disoriented, and incredibly shaken up and nauseous from the  _ very  _ rough landing, Lance took a second to just lay on the floor, or the wall. Red was turned on his side and Lance splayed across the dashboard that ran parallel to his chair, back against the heated walls and feet kicked up and dangling over the edge of the dashboard. The ceiling above him spun, waves of vertigo washed over him and pounded against his skull at every angle. His body ached, but he was sure he could still move. Just give him a second to reorient himself.

It was his lungs that were really hurting. He’d taken in so much volcanic ash, his lungs absolutely  _ burned. _ His breaths came out in painful wheezes that stabbed at his throat, his mouth felt like it had a dry film over it (it probably did), and his eyes burned and watered, his vision blurred and it took everything not to take off his helmet and rub his eyes. His cheeks still felt damp, with blood or tears, he couldn’t tell. This was an awful deja vu of the most recent mission.

“I’m sorry, Red,” he wheezed out. “I’m so frickin’ sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry I’m so stupid.” His already warbled voice cracked, tears dripped down the side of his temple. “It’s my fault you’re hurt, it’s my fault the team is worried sick and unable to form Voltron, I’m sorry I’m such a disaster.”

He felt so stupid for crying so much, like his emotions were extra sensitive to any sort of negative feeling. He couldn’t help it, really. It was like his heart was so full of too much. Too much loneliness, too much sadness, too much homesickness, too much doubt, too much regret, too much  _ pain. _

_ I don’t need an apology. But they do. _

Right on queue, someone was pounding at Red’s under belly, followed by muffled shouts. He could make out Hunk’s deep voice, a few octaves higher than usual and laced with anxiety, and Pidge’s screech. A third voice joined them, 

He was full of so much tender pain, but he could feel his brimming love for his teammates, his family at home, Red and Blue and even all the other lions, and for the ever expanding, unexplored space. 

Lance staggered to his feet, taking a second to stand still and let the world stop spinning before he made his way down to the team. He was allowed to feel this pain, but he needed to let his found family in so they can help direct him down the path to soothe the ache in his chest. 

Red opened his maw, clouds of ash and dust rolled out like Lance had turned on a fog machine in him, but filled it with charcoal instead of fog juice. He stumbled out, vertigo hitting him hard and eyes so blurred over he could barely make out the bright colors of the other Paladins’ armors. Collective shouts met his ringing ears. Strong hands held him up. His knees gave out under him and he collapsed toward the ground. He never made it, instead was gently eased toward the ground and cradled in large arms. Hunk.

He could hear, but he couldn’t process what was being said at him, words lost through the ringing and dizzying sensations. He probably needed to get more air. Was that whistling sound him?

Red said he needed to not apologize to him, but to his team. 

“I’m-” he choked out. “Mission accomplished. I’m sorry for being a nuisance and a prick I-I-” he took a ragged breath. It was really hard to breathe. He tried to draw in air, but was cut off with a harsh cough. His helmet was tugged off, cold air hit his face and shocked his system. 

“Oh  _ Lance,” _ that was definitely Hunk. He cradled Lance close in his arms, taking in his tear streaked and soot stained face. “Lance, don’t speak. We’re gonna get you in a healing pod, alright buddy? You’re gonna be okay.”

After that it was a blur, Hunk bridal carried him to the infirmary, whispering hush apologies and soothing words.Unlike last time when he was nearly unconscious, he could feel the embarrassment flooding his system. He didn’t mind, though. Hunk’s arm’s felt nice. 

Lance could barely see, but he could hear the thundering footsteps of his teammates, his family, following close behind Hunk. He got suited up, and helped with the most gentle hands into the pod.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he was able to utter out before the doors shut and he was frozen in a stasis.

He woke up alone. The cooling air of the pod followed him out, tingling across his skin and leaving all his senses numb. He stumbled out and took a second to pause and let the world stop spinning. His limbs felt like they were laden with lead, stiff as a board, and cold as ice. He took a deep inhale of the recycle air, and exhaled a puff of icy cool air leftover in his lungs. 

It felt strange, being this cold. He was all too aware of the heat Lucifius emanated to where the humidity of his suit felt normal. He shivered. 

Once he felt he could walk without falling over, he headed out the infirmary doors and down to his room. The castle lights were muted to indicate it was bedtime. Lance thanked the Lord that no one was up to interrogate him. He needed his pajamas, food, a shower, and nap before he had energy to try and even  _ look  _ at the team. 

He was able to slip into his room and straight into a boiling hot shower without running into Pidge or Shiro, the two people most likely to be up and about at this hour. 

This was his first shower in over a week, and he relished in it. He sighed constantly when the hot water cascaded down his head and shoulders, washing away the grime and dried sweat that had caked on and become a second skin. The Paladin suits were pretty cool and keeping things like oxygen in and space stuff out, but it did jack  _ shit  _ to keep the ash out. 

He scrubbed every inch of his skin until it was red and raw, washed his hair probably three times, and gave it the deep conditioning it deserved. After he was out of the longest shower in his life, he applied his deepest pore cleaning, skin smoothing mask and moisturized his entire body until he was sure if he tripped he would just slip across the floor. 

When he washed the mask off, that was the first time in a very long time he got to see his own reflection. Even after the pore treatment, his face was rough and his pores were absolutely  _ gaping _ . A couple blackheads had made home to his face, and his cheeks were gaunt, leaving his cheekbones and jawline sharper than before. Even with his nap in the healing pod, they didn’t really fix the bags under his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, the whites were still a little pink. The rest of him was no better. His ribs were peeking out, and he could feel the knobs of his spin when he ran his hand down his back. He hopes Hunk’s cooking and plenty of training would fix that right up. 

Speaking of food, his stomach gave a loud grumble. Lance prayed Hunk had leftovers saved for him so his first meal back after eating dried rations was food goo. 

The kitchen light was on when he got there. Keith jumped a bit in his seat at the door sliding open suddenly. 

“Lance,” Keith gasped. He launched himself from his seat and threw himself at Lance, but suddenly stopped barely a foot away. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Lance said. His voice was hoarse with disuse. 

“Sit down, let me get you some food. Hunk made ravioli, but like, blue, and there’s leftovers in the fridge for you.” 

Lance cracked a small smile and took a seat next to Keith’s cup at the island counter. He watched Keith bustle around warming up the leftovers for Lance, soaking in the silence between them. He knew Keith would try and make him talk about what happened, but for now he relished in the mundane sounds of Keith messing up Hunk’s clean kitchen.

Keith placed a bowl of the blue ravioli with green sauce in front of him and took a seat across the kitchen island. 

It’s been a while since Lance seen Keith in person, Lance realized. It was always just on video feeds with Keith standing in the background, occasionally giving his two cents. Those were serious situations, and Keith always donned the Blade of Marmora uniform and a stern expression.

Now, he sat across from Lance with sleep tousled hair, his black shirt, and the same stern expression.

Keith opened his mouth to say something, most likely reprehind Lance for disappearing for a couple weeks without a word, ignoring everyone’s calls, then stumbling back into the castle with Keith’s- no,  _ Lance’s - _ lion absolutely trashed. Lance cut him off before he can say anything.

“I needed that,” Lance said. He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to clear up the rest of the froggy notes.

Keith frowned, a furrow appeared between his brows. “You needed to nearly die from overexposure to volcanic ash  _ how  _ exactly?”

“Red.” He took a deep breath. “I was struggling with. . . Red.” It hurt to admit this to Keith of all people. “And Coran sent us on a ‘mission’ to bond. It. . . it worked. I had a lot of time to think, and a lot of time to think with Red. And he showed me some things that helped me realize what I was doing wrong.”

Lance picked at his food. Keith let him eat, gather his senses, without saying a word. 

He continued. “I’d been falling back into a dark place I never wanted to return to, and I was hurt, really hurt, for Blue locking me out like she did and dumping me on Red. I felt like no matter how hard I tried, I would still get told off for it, that I wasn’t good enough to be a Paladin of Voltron. Ever since you left, the team has been okay, but I felt like I was just trying to fill your shoes as the Red Paladin and second in command.” Lance put down his spork. He couldn’t eat anymore. His stomach was tied up in knots, throat burning. “But, I was able to get into the mindscape with Red, and we were able to talk it out a bit before the volcano erupted. I’m not. . . I’m not okay now, but I know I will be. He pointed me in the right direction and I intent to follow the path. Or, carve my own, Lance-shaped one.”

“Hey,” Keith said softly. He reached across the table and laid his hand over Lance’s. It was a shock how warm Keith’s was compared to Lance’s cold one. “You can’t fill in my shoes, because there’s no shoes to fill. I’m Keith, you’re Lance. I was the previous Red Paladin and now you’re the current one. You, Lance,” he took a deep breath and continued, “You’re so talented and smart and you possess qualities I could only dream of having. Your marksmanship? Your leadership skills? Your critical thinking? The way you can lighten the whole room? It’s incredible. When you were gone on Lucifius, it was tough for the team. They were running ragged looking into the Kuron stuff you found, but also missing a vital part of them. Then Coran told us a few days ago exactly why you left, and they called me to try and get you back.”

Lance jerked up to stare at Keith, confused. “No offense, but why you?”

Keith wouldn’t meet his eye, looking everywhere in the kitchen but Lance. “I dunno. I told them they should have Hunk do it but they insisted you’d listen to me.”

“Hm, a call from the Marmorites really did get me to haul ass,” Lance said. Keith scoffed at Lance’s nickname for them.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Keith softened. “The whole team was a wreck with you gone like that, Lance. I know we talked about it before, about you wanting to leave, but I think that’d be a really bad idea. There’s no Voltron without its heart.”

Lance felt his heart swell. It was suddenly hard to breath, but not because of ash in his lungs. “Allura’s the heart,” he stated.

“No, you are,” Keith said firmly. “Allura’s a space princess with magical abilities, you’re the heart of the team and the glue that keeps us together. When you were gone, the team was in shambles. They rely on your energy more than you think.” He reached across the counter and gripped Lance’s hand firmly. “You can’t go anywhere, got it?”

“What about Blue?” Lance’s hand burned where Keith’s hand held his. He was wearing his gloves, so Lance could feel the rough calluses of his hands on the back of his own.

“What about Blue?” Keith echoed back. “I thought you were okay with the lion switches?”

Lance hung his head low. “No, not yet. Red’s great, but I miss Blue. She gave me up so easily, like our bond didn’t matter. Besides, Red’s not a good color on me.”

“Yeah it is,” Keith said. He gave Lance’s hand a firm squeeze. “You’d look really good in red.” Lance’s breath got caught in his throat. “And for Blue? I think you should talk to Allura. She was telling us about how Blue seemed a little reluctant sometimes, and always tries to drive Allura toward you. She thought it might be just remnants of you influencing her, but it might be because Blue misses you, too. Allura said Blue took her in because she needed to, but if she could she would rather have you back. Try and talk to Blue sometime and see what happens.”

“When did you become a little counselor for feelings, Keith?” Lance sniffed. His delicate heart, that’s already taken such a beating the past couple weeks, couldn’t handle the onslaught of emotions. They were good emotions, warm, fuzzy, gooey feelings that left him breathless and teary eyed. His head felt heavy with exhaustion, and body warm from the food and Keith’s healing words. 

“Shiro might have taught me a thing or two to make sure I don’t fuck up,” Keith cracked a smile. He pulled his hand back and tucked it in his lap. Lance’s hand burned where he had held it. “You should get some sleep. I’ll tell Hunk to save you some breakfast so you can sleep in.”

With that, Keith stood up and stretched, taking Lance’s empty bowl and dumped it in the sink. 

“Hey Keith?” Lance said.

“Hm?”

“I’m really sorry for worrying you guys. They probably pulled you from some important Marmorite mission to drag my ass back. I didn’t mean to stress you guys out or anything.” Lance couldn’t look up from his hands. He didn’t want to see Keith’s expression right now.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re feeling better, right?”

Lance nodded.

“Then don’t worry about it. We’re . . . a family okay? The others told me about how you’ve been really off your game lately, and when they called me saying you might be in danger I jumped at the chance to help. You- you guys are more important than the Blade is.”

He looked up to meet Keith’s earnest eyes. “Thank you.” He really meant it. 

He stood up to stretch, too. His joints were still way too stiff after the pod, and it’s gonna take a good night’s rest and some slow stretches in the morning to work out the rest of the kinks. 

They bid each other goodnight and headed off, Keith toward his room and Lance a lap around the castle wing to unwind before heading to bed. 

Lance found himself in front of the hangers, Blue’s hanger to be exact. Keith’s words rang through his head, lighting a little spark of hope deep in his chest, warmed him up a little bit more. He took a deep breath and stepped into the hanger.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated! i have the next morning glory done I just need that edited, and the first chapter for a new fic that I'm planning on posting in october all at once so you don't have to wait.  
> ALSO PLEASE check out this SICK fanart duq did for me for this fic  
> http://canadiangothstalker.tumblr.com/post/177858049773/this-was-made-by-the-fantastic-slowduq-for-my#disqus_thread
> 
> main tumblr: canadiangothstalker  
> art tumblr: mirai-eats  
> twitter: mirai_eats


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